


Bruised

by inkandchocolate



Series: Bruised [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandchocolate/pseuds/inkandchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angelus and Xander and bruises, oh my!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> DUB-CON WARNING: possible seen as dub-con, depending on your feelings on the matter.
> 
> Set during "Killed by Death"

Taste of bad coffee still in his mouth. Eyes burning with that not-enough-sleep feeling. Muscles shaky from all the adrenaline expended over the last few hours. Xander isn't anyone's idea of a good time right now, and he could give a fuck.

Leaving the hospital at sunset isn't the brightest idea, but what the hell is he supposed to do? Tell everyone that he was staying because it was getting dark out? Uh, no. Not just no, in fact, but hell no.Enough strikes against his wounded ego as it is, no need to add to the numbers.

So when the dark gets deeper, he walks a little faster. Thinks longingly about the stake he usually carries but lost somewhere in the cemetery when they were trying to carry Buffy out after she did that heart-stopping passing out thing. After *he* left them standing there,not even bothering to make a move for them, like they - like *Xander*-wasn't worth the effort.

//Fucker// he thinks, oddly pleased at the way the word purrs around in his brain.

He's still mulling the word over, turning it in his head, when one of the shadows steps out in front of him and makes him give a small but embarrassing jump. When he realizes who it is, Xander's heart lurches,stops, and starts up again about six inches higher in his body than it usually resides.

"Xander," says the Angelus-shaped shadow, and Xander can *hear* the smirk in his voice.

"Fucker." It just tumbles right out, pretty snappy in fact, sounding for all the world like it had in his brain, and Xander actually grins back.As if he's been expecting this. As if he's been looking forward to it.As if he's not sweating through his shirt.

"That's a word just rife with possibilities." Angelus steps forward so the street lights, which have obligingly begun to glow in a weird orangey cast, bring his face into view. Yeah, there's that smirk. And a few more teeth than Xander is actually happy about.

"It's an insult. I'd expect you to know those kinds of things. Bet you've heard a lot of them in your time." Xander reaches behind him as if he actually has the damn stake tucked into his waist band. Not that he expects it to do much good. Even if he had it. Which he doesn't.And now he's doing the mental babble thing that always gets him into trouble.

"Actually, it sounded more like an invitation to me." Advancing towards the boy, hands in his jacket pocket, boots very loud on the deserted street. Watching him make that ridiculous gesture of self protection,not wanting to retreat but doing it anyway. Seeing his adam's apple bob as he swallows much too hard.

Smelling the fear.

"I know you don't have a stake, Xander. Young guy like you, you'd have had it out all ready. Young boys are always so eager to show what they've got." Still advancing. Slow measured steps. "So. You want to show me what you've got?"

Xander's head snaps to the right suddenly and there's an alley over there. Angelus sees the thoughts fly through his head, sees him process it - go,run,escape - and struggle with the idea of staying to fight,weapons or no weapons. Desperately doesn't want to run, but also desperately wants to be not dead so he breaks and runs anyway.

Angelus takes his time following, knows already it's a dead end, was waiting right here because of it. He had assumed it would be the redhead he caught up with tonight, but is actually pleased to be wrong about that because the boy will be so much more fun.

Boys always are.

Sure enough, he gets to the alley a few steps behind and there's Xander,way down the end, pressed in the corner as if he can make himself invisible. Angelus smells him from here: fear and anger and desperation. The boy's heart is clocking along like freight train. He's gulping in air, ready to pass out from hyperventilating and overloading himself with oxygen.

"Things aren't really going your way this year, are they?" The dark man strolls down the alley, ignoring the more obnoxious odors and concentrating instead on the pheromones from the boy. "I'm betting though, whatever you had happening before this - crush on the Slayer,failing high school, whatever pathetic events might be unfolding for you- all of those are going to look like the high points after tonight."

He pauses, head cocked to the side. "What, no snappy comebacks?"

"Fuck you, Deadboy," Xander croaks out.

Angelus nods. "I'm picking up a theme here. Let's see what we can do about it." Three more steps and he's right up against him, face to face. Long dark hair curling at the ends covering his forehead, eyes so full of hate that they are almost gleaming, tremor over every inch of a body that's radiating heat and fear in equal measure. Mouth - oh, yeah,mouth partly open from all that gulping of oxygen, and even as Angelus stares at it the boys licks his lips and now they're all pretty and pink and shiny. A mouth worth teaching tricks.

And Xander's eyes are closing now, like he can't bear to watch what's going to happen to him, or maybe it's surrender to the inevitable.Either way, it's another invitation, and Angelus takes it, grabbing the boy's face in one hand and pressing his shoulder against the wall with the other, and he kisses that soft and open mouth, driving his tongue into it hard and deep, sweeping over teeth and cheeks and tasting a hint of the fear, the coffee he had, and something else, something just Xander. Something beneath the salt of terror.

Xander's making noises in the back of his throat and his hands are on Angelus' jacket pushing with frantic and useless movements. But his eyes never open. Angelus stops kissing him and lets go of his face.Bruise along the jaw already from his grip, and Angelus grins. Grabs the flailing hands and pins them up against the wall. Presses his hips against the boy's to keep him pinned there, lets him feel the hard length that's in evidence. Rubs it against the boy's thin baggy pants with a deliberate slowness.

"Your turn, Xander. Let's see what you bring to the party." He switches his grip so there's one hand free and brings it down to Xander's groin. Finds what he was looking for, traces the outline with his palm until it starts to press back. Lets go of the arms to grab his face again, and kisses him.

Xander's cock, which had been twitching at the pressure of hips and hands, gives a leap when Angelus' tongue thrusts into his mouth again.His entire body is playing traitor, responding to the body pressed against him, the mouth working his own. And yeah, from the way he's being roughed up, which for some reason makes him feel like it's OK to be getting hard. Really hard, in fact. And he groans when the hand leaves him down there but it's just a second before it's replaced with a much harder pressure from Angelus' hips. And something else, too.Something dauntingly thick and long.

And Xander's knees get wobbly then. //Oh fuck// he thinks briefly as he realizes that the harder pressure is due to the other man's //vampire's// cock rubbing on his own and he's also aware that he's kissing back, tongue sweeping past the cool one in his own mouth to explore the other space beyond. Cooler space, too, and it tastes like ... like sucking on copper pennies, and he realizes this means he's tasting someone else's blood and it sends a scorching wave of *something* through him, hot then cold. And a fresh crop of sweat beads up all over at once. And hey, it feels like his dick just got even bigger but that could be the blind panic that's surging through him. He tries to wrench his head to the side, but it's no good because it just earns him a painful squeeze to his already bruised jaw.

Finally, Angelus pulls his head back and looks at the boy who's gaspingfor air and looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. But Xander's also rock hard, and there's no denying that he has the raw smell of lust all over him. He flinches when Angelus reaches out to casually tear open his shirt, little white buttons flying to the corners of the alley. His wrists are throbbing where they are being held, and his shoulders are starting to join that chorus, but all he can think about now is the way the other man's eyes are roving over his pale bare chest.

Then that free hand is reaching out, touching Xander's slick skin, rubbing over one dark nipple and then the other, both of them perking right up at the brush of cold finger tips and that earns them a painful pinch which makes Xander moan and squirm just enough to remind him how hard they *both* are now. Then there's no looking down anymore because Angelus has got his face right in Xander's, brown eyes to brown eyes, and the smile on the other man's face makes Xander gulp and swallow all the extra saliva that's suddenly in his mouth. And his cock is throbbing so hard that he's pretty sure Angelus can feel it from the other side of the material that separates them down there. He can't even blink, it's some weird staring contest now, and how surreal is this? His arms are free because both of those cold hands are at the waist band of his pants and they're falling off his hips, puddling at his feet so he's basically naked now.

Naked. Hard. With Angelus and that fucking smile on his face that makes Xander want to either cry or spit in his face. His jaw is throbbing and he knows there's a huge bruise up there, and his wrists are throbbing too, only instead of pushing away he's got his hands on Angelus' jacket and he's just holding it in big bunches of sweaty leather.

Because he wants to finish this, or at least his cock does; it's straining up tight against Xander's belly and it's all shiny with pre-come. And he wants something that he doesn't even have the words for and couldn't say them even if they were printed out for him to read. He's all about the low down feeling right now, and he doesn't really want to process who it is that's giving it to him.

So when Angelus undoes his own zipper and shift his own cock out, Xander can't help but look down at it, white against the darkness of the clothing around it, head mostly hidden in folds of skin, and that gives Xander a little start of surprise. But it's kind of pink there where it peeks out and it's also wet and slippery looking. So when Xander finds his hand reaching out to touch it, he can only take a mental note of //so that's what it looks like// and then he's got his hand on the thing, thumb touching the tip to feel slippery wetness there and weird sensation of the skin sliding down with his hand and then there's the rest of the head, still pretty pale all things considered. Big, just as big as he thought it would be, acknowledging right now that yeah, he'd thought about it before this.

There's a sound coming from Angelus that's part growl, part purr, and then Xander's the one making noises when his own cock is engulfed in a chilly grip. Only Xander doesn't do the growly thing, he does the gasping thing, and the "Oh, *shit*!" thing, too. His hand is still wrapped around the paler dick, getting slicker by the moment, but he's forgotten to move in those first few moments of being stroked. So Angelus' hand is over his own now, and it must feel weird to be jerking off two cocks at the same time, and Xander can feel a giggle gather in his throat but it gets cut off when the hand that's stroking him gives a twist at the top, right around the tip, almost a pinch and his knees do give out then.

And Xander has got his face right where he thought he'd never have it,which is eye level with some other guys dick. A really hard one, covered in the vaguely shimmery fluid that also covers his own. And he isn't even thinking when he opens his mouth and licks it, tastes that salty flavor. Feels weirdly satisfied to hear the growl come again from above him, and does it again, slower this time, a long long lick that comes right up to the head that's not even partly covered with skin anymore.

His mouth is already open when the hands come down and wind in his hair to push him forward, so he takes in as much as he can but it's too big to get even half in there. He does the best he can and lets his tongue rub over the bottom on whatever part he has in his mouth. Makes a funky slurping sound and pulls his head back a little to suck in some air along with everything else that's pushing into him. His own hand comes down and around his cock, finding the familiar rhythm easily - stroke, stroke, strokestrokestroke.

He lets his eyes glance upwards and finds himself looking into some really intense eyes, still human and that's a relief because otherwise he's pretty sure all bets would be off, and then he's definitely feeling himself start to go. So he breaks the eye contact and concentrates instead on putting his free hand around the base of Angelus' cock, feeling the thin skin and crinkly hair of his balls against his thumb and *that* gives him another one of those weird thrills and he tightens his grip on himself convulsively. Almost went right there, and he's not sure what he's going to do when he comes. So back to the task Xander goes, tongue licking at the exposed pink head, dipping into the slit there and coming away with strings of that salty-sweet fluid joining his lips to the cock. But not for long, since he's really getting into it now, urged on by the sounds coming from above, little growls still, but also words every now and then, like "Yes," and "Right there," and once "Oh, fuck" grinds out in what is the most strangled sound Xander has ever heard. And a few seconds after that, right when he's ready to shoot off himself, the hands in his hair tighten to a painful grip and before he can do more than groan in protest his mouth is full of fluid that he swallows convulsively, without thinking. His own cock gives a throbbing jerk in his hand and he's moaning through his own climax, his come hitting him in the chest, the chin, who knows where else because it feels like everything inside of him is leaving with it. And amazingly Angelus is still pumping into his mouth, bumping the back of his throat, hands clenching and unclenching in Xander's hair.

Then he's gone in a quick movement and the hands that were on Xander seconds ago are tucking the pale length back into black pants, adjusting himself casually. And Xander is still on his knees, grit and dirt he hadn't felt before making itself known in the painful brush burns there, naked for all intents and purposes, come in his hand and in his throat. And he looks up wordlessly at the other man.

Angelus quirks an eyebrow at him. Smiles. The bruises on Xander's face are framing his swollen mouth and somehow even his eyes look injured.He no longer smells like fear, only like sex and sweat and maybe still a touch of the anger. When Angelus leans down, Xander doesn't flinch. He meets those dark eyes steadily, but can't help dropping down to look at the lips that are full even when smiling.

"Wonder what the Slayer would say if she knew you went down on her boyfriend," Angelus says conversationally. "Do you think you two can get together and discuss techniques? Because I gotta tell you Xander,she could learn a thing or two from you, buddy."

Now Xander flinches a little but doesn't look away. He reaches out the hand that's covered in stickiness and grabs the leather jacket, pulling himself up and wiping his hand at the same time. Small gesture but one he enjoys making. Angelus looks down at it but doesn't react. Same smile on his face when he looks back to Xander.

"I'll be seeing you real soon, boy," he says. "You have a good night. Get some rest. I think you're going to need it."

There's really nothing in those words that anyone could interpret as threatening if taken out of context, but Xander knows, he knows, that Angelus is right. And he hates the part of himself that wants it. So he bends down to gather up his pants, not even bothering to brush the dirt from his knees. His face throbs, his mouth burns, his wrists are already swollen, and he wonders vaguely what the hell he'll tell everyone when they ask him what happened. But he's quick when it comes right down to it, so he's sure he'll think of something and he's even surer that it will have nothing to do with Angelus.

~end&lt;


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please Sir, I want some more...

The world moves on.

Xander admits this to himself, even finds relief in it whenever he's taken with the cold sweat of hysteria over what happened in the alley. And that thought invades his mind about as often as he breathes in or out every day.

So the rest of the world moves on and Xander finds that he is stuck. Stuck with the thought of feelings evoked by that time in the alley - the fear and the want mixing together into something that is like poisoned candy. Sweet and deadly. One hit and he is addicted.

Wondering briefly if he really does have some kind of death wish, and not even bothering to wander back over the 'does-this-make-me-gay' tracks that his train of thought embarks on every other hour, he finds himself on the outside of the old apartment building where Angel lived.

Angelus. //Keep it straight// he reminds himself.

Then his feet are carrying him inside, down the stairs, like somehow Angelus tied a string around his dick and now he's being reeled in. Like some kind of fish. //Angelfish//

Heart thudding in his throat, Xander leans against the door, forehead making a little thump, eyes closed and burning as he just stands there like a wino on a really cheap high. He's sweating again even though it's cool in the basement hallway. His brain, which has chosen this moment to conveniently replay that instant when he'd been brought to his knees by the cold hand on his cock, seems to be on a never-ending loop. Against the black of his inner eyelids, Xander sees his own personal porno tape starring him and his amazing blow job technique.

Now he's flushed and shaking, and hey, he's halfway to hard. Big surprise there, huh?

With a start he realizes he's not alone in the hallway anymore and he's almost afraid to open his eyes. But he stands up straight, everything in slow motion, and says in a carefully casual tone, "Deadboy."

When there's no reply right away, Xander is amazed by the thrill of *loss* he feels. He has all kinds of jangles going on in his legs; tingles like pins and needles, and the weak thing that makes him afraid to take a step because he doesn't want to fall on his ass. Even if no one is there.

But when he turns around, still moving in slow-mo, he gets this sweeping thing working on his vision so he sees the dark shadow evolve from a blur into full features. Dark dark eyes with a tiny sliver of gold on the edges. Pale face, perfect skin, heavy brow. Full lips.

Not smiling.

A violent wave of deja-vu rolls over Xander as he finds himself once again with his back against the wall and the vampire blocking his retreat. And he discovers he has lost all the things he wants to say. Things about why he is there. What he thinks about the man in front of him. Things that almost make Xander feel much better about everything that's happened. All gone in the heat of the stare.

Xander misses the ever present smirk, misses it very much suddenly. The total lack of expression on Angelus' face is giving him a major wiggins, and it's far too late to do anything about it. But he's excruciatingly aware of the weight of the cross he wears under his shirt this time, and of the length of himself as he gets harder by the second. He wonders if he's becoming Xander the Amazing Fear Junkie along with Xander, King of the Death Wish.

"Nothing to say?" he croaks out. A bead of sweat gathers its weight and rolls down Xander's temple. Angelus' eyes break away and track the tiny droplet on its course from hairline to cheekbone to curve of jaw, and with a motion of his hand that's too fast to see, he's lifting the salty wetness onto a fingertip. Eyes locked on Xander's again, Angelus brings the finger up to the boy's mouth and rubs it onto his lips.

And it's like an electric shock without the heat, the touch of that finger to his skin, and the hint of moisture bringing back vivid memories of the last time they were together and a heavy thud in his groin says his whole body remembers, not just his brain. Xander isn't even aware when he licks the salt from his lips but he sees Angelus watching him do it nonetheless. He swallows thickly and opens his mouth but there's nothing to say.

So Angelus says it for him. "You're back." Still no expression. Statement of fact.

Xander feels better for some reason. He's giddy, he realizes. He feels a kind of relief that something is happening. Anything. Breaking the monotony that has been his life for as long as he can remember. So he straightens his shoulders and with his old tone of voice says, "I see you're a master of stating the obvious." Cocky grin to go with it.

"And you have an interesting way of choosing your words, boy." Bigger grin from Angelus, and it makes Xander's curl up and go away. There's suddenly much less oxygen in the hall, which is odd because he's the only one there using any.

"Again I find myself in a... position to teach you something about thinking before speaking." Angelus steps up in his face and Xander smells something on him that's shockingly clean, as if he just stepped out of a shower. It's so out of place that it makes his head reel. When their bodies make contact, they're both hard. Xander is absurdly pleased to know that he's not the only one jonesing on the vibes between them, although some little voice way at the back of his mind reminds him that he's playing a very dangerous game with something that's more excited by the prospect of sucking him dry than it is by fucking him. And that those two acts are not necessarily mutually exclusive. And that the cross around his neck is so fragile as to be laughable.

As is his neck, for that matter.

Xander's eyes flutter down to the full mouth that's hovering close to his own and he can't look away. Waits for the repeat of the bruising grip on his face and arms. Waits even more eagerly for the kiss that goes with it. Doesn't realize he's leaning forward in anticipation until his vision blurs and he feels that cool silken flesh on his own mouth. Swallows a groan when the mouth turns out to be pliant and willing and opens to his tentative tongue. Leaves his hands at his sides while he just absorbs the feelings that go along with the act of kissing: soft, cool, wet. And also suddenly hot, too as there's some reciprocation from Angelus. Pressure that grows stronger, presses Xander's head back against the door as the tongue invades his mouth and the soft part of the kiss is long gone.

Not caring that they are in the hallway of an apartment building, which had to have some other tenants around, live ones who would probably be less than pleased at the idea of two men doing this kind of thing in the hallway. Not caring about who is actually pinning him to the door with his mouth and his body. Not caring too much about anything except the rampaging fire that is burning in his head and his chest and yeah, in his cock. And only caring about getting more, right now, because everything that's wrong about what he's doing and who he's doing it with is just adding to the way he feels and making that much sharper. Like sugar on strawberries - sweet made sweeter.

So when Angelus pulls his head back and does that staring thing again, Xander decides he doesn't care about that either and reaches his hand over to test the doorknob. Subtle he ain't, but it gets the point across that he wants to go inside. For whatever outcome. Doesn't want it to be in the hallway because for once he'd like to inject a little privacy into what passes for his life now.

Because he wants to be on the bed. And he wants them both naked this time.

Almost like he's reading all of Xander's thoughts, and not just the obvious ones that have to do with trying to open the door, Angelus reaches out, puts his hand over Xander's and uses the boy's hand to turn the knob all the way. Pushes himself against the boy with a predator's leer. The door opens smoothly and Xander backpedals a little to maintain his balance. Looks around at the dim room.

Dust over everything. Not a lot but enough to be obvious that no one's been in there for a while. Slightly musty smell but stronger over that is the tang of smoky incense. Not much in the furniture department but there's the bed, big as life. Bigger in fact. Xander decides that everything about Angel //Angelus, get it straight// is of the large and impressive variety. Flushes at the memory of how accurate that is.

"You don't seriously believe I'd stay here, do you?" Angelus still has a hold of Xander's hand and shows no inclination of letting go in the near future. It's not like holding hands, no young lovers sharing affection. It's more like...holding a leash.

Xander shakes his head no, still looking over at the bed. Moves away from the door and into the room, each step a little shaky and unsure, but there's none of the heart stopping panic that he probably should be feeling. His heart is thudding in his chest, though, the rhythm echoed in his cock that now feels almost painfully erect and he's sure there's a telltale wet spot on the front of his thin khaki pants. And the way Angelus is holding onto his hand is making him jumpy again, like the way he was in the hallway. Like he'll fall down if he tries to move.

"So tell me why you're here, Xander." The voice is so quiet that the click of the door closing almost covers it. Xander jumps at little at the sound of the click - trap closing on the bunny. Somehow this all went rapidly from a grope in the hallway to being alone in the near dark with a vampire. Which is what he wanted, right? But still.

"I don't know, " slips out of his mouth and hangs in between them like the incense, there but not solid. He tugs his hand free and then doesn't know what to do with it. So he crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at the floor. Sees his own ratty sneakers touching toes with shiny black boots.

"I think we both know why." Pause. "I think you're just afraid to say it." Big hands suddenly grab Xander's shirt and pull him up close. "Say it, boy."

But Xander is speechless. In all his heated thoughts of what might happen if he came here, this was never one of them. The shame of saying it is too great, there's no way he can do it, he can barely acknowledge it in his head let alone utter the confirmation. So he stutters a little, nothing coming out but some harsh dry syllables that made no sense.

"Let's see if we can get you working on the right answer." And Xander finds himself being pulled over towards the bed he had been so eager to see earlier. Tossed onto it like a toy. He lays there stunned, arms over his head, legs spread in a sprawl. Staring up at the other man looming over him as he strips off his jacket and pulls his shirt from his waistband. Unbuttons it efficiently, baring a smooth expanse of muscled chest that Xander finds himself wanting to lick. Angelus' erection is evident through the fabric of his trousers, more so from this angle that Xander is afforded. He wants to taste that again, too, licks his lips in anticipation.

He half expects to see Angelus strip completely, but that's not happening. Instead he looks down at Xander and rubs a hand absently over his own chest. Cranes his head a little to the side as if considering where to take the first bite. Says instead, "Have you remembered what you came here for yet, Xander?"

Doesn't really want an answer right now, apparently, because before Xander can even try to form a reply, Angelus is stepping closer to the bed, leaning over, hands on either side of Xander's head. And then it's just one hand leaning because the other one has a hold of Xander's wrist and he's bringing it up to touch that bare chest. He's rubbing Xander's hand over the hard expanse of it and Xander is just hypnotized at the sight of his suddenly dark hand touching white skin. Now the hand is being directed lower, past tight abdominal muscles, then fingers bumping over the waistband of the black trousers, finally being pushed onto the swelling beneath. Xander's hand clasps it in a reflex he has no control over and then his mind goes fuzzy.

"Is this what you came here for, boy?" The voice is soft and low and deceptively unthreatening. And when did Angelus let go of his hand anyway? He's holding onto the huge cock now of his own volition. Funny, the realization doesn't make Xander want to let go. He even manages to find some saliva in his dry, dry mouth and answer.

"Yeah." Simple. Direct. True.

Angelus grins again, but Xander misses it because he's still transfixed by the sight of his hand right *there* and how big that thing feels under the layers of cloth that separate his warm skin from the cold of the vampire's. He wants to see it again, the way it looks with the skin covering it, the way the tip just peers out from the folds before he's completely and absolutely hard, so hard he can't get any bigger, so huge that he barely fits in Xander's mouth. His own cock gives a jerk at that thought - having Angelus in his mouth again. Having those hands on him again.

So when Angelus lets the weight of his body fall onto Xander's with excruciating slowness, Xander is already wishing that he was naked, that they both were naked, because he wants skin to skin, all over, chests and legs and cocks all rubbing against each other without any of the bother of clothing between them. And somehow he knows that they are going to end up that way, eventually, that he'll have what he wants but not on his own timetable. It's all up to the other man now, and part of Xander is relieved. It's so much easier to forget about the things he is supposed to be doing when it's really so out of his control now. Let's just forget that he walked himself over here on legs that weren't being forced by anything stronger than his own raw need. He's here now, in the lion's den, and he's about to be eaten alive.

And then, oh God, thank you, that mouth in on his again and all Xander can think of is how much he wants it to keep on kissing him. Firm lips cover his, cool tongue exploring, sweeping over teeth to tickle the roof of his mouth and engage his own tongue in a willing dance. No copper taste this time and that's good, because Xander wants to do some exploring of his own. His tongue finds Angelus' teeth, licking the blunt canines as he wonders what would happen if Angelus vamped out, if he found his tongue in a mouth that had too many sharp edges. What would happen if he cut himself on those razorlike fangs and started to bleed? Would Angelus keep right on doing what he was doing now, kissing Xander while his big hands held Xander's face and his hips ground into the boy's own? Or would the drop of blood cause him to go feral, to suck Xander's tongue even harder than he was now, drawing the blood out faster, moving down to the neck where he would use those fangs to open an artery and drink every ounce of life out of Xander while he laid on the vampire's bed wanting him to do it, wanting it all as long as those hands and that mouth were still on him...

Abruptly Angelus rolls off of Xander, leaving him panting and aching and confused. He finds himself hauled to his feet in the next moment, rough hands tearing away the shirt he wears and then the pants. A cool hand brushes over his hip, slides up the length of his cock and gathers the slickness that coats it before running up his belly, leaving a shiny trail behind it. Xander's nipples are already hard when the fingers reach them to circle and tease and circle again. Then the hand is gone but the damage is done; Xander is shaking like a fever victim, brain on overload, nothing beyond the need to touch and grab and suck getting through his circuits. He vaguely recognizes the sound of a zipper and realizes that Angelus is undressing, that's why the hands left him there alone, and he's OK with that. Because it means he's going to get his skin to skin wish.

Glancing down at himself he finds his cock purple with sustained lust. He has no idea how long it's been from the time he got hard in the hallway until now, but he's willing to wager that it's about twice as long as he's ever managed to be this excited before and not come. He's liberally coated in the pre-come oozing from the swollen head and there's drops of it caught in the dark tangle of hair at the base. He realizes he's standing there in a pile of his own clothes, sneakers still on his feet and he hastily removes them, cock bouncing with the movements. He turns his head to see where the other man is and finds that he's been standing there, arms crossed, fully naked. Watching.

Xander feels himself head into a full body flush, blinks a few times and then stops trying to pretend that he doesn't want to take the same luxury and see every inch of the vampire's body. So he does, avoiding the face because he's still not entirely comfortable with that part, the part that sees and speaks. And bites. He moves on to the broad shoulders, slimmer hips and there, at the base of the tiny trail of black hair that leads from the navel, the thing he really wanted to see again. Arching up, incredibly pale for the way it's swollen and hard, skin stretched taunt over every inch of it. And there's a good many inches of it, Xander notes with a mixture of awe and fear and lust. That's as far as he can go, he's transfixed by the cock itself and the small drops of fluid gathered on the head of it. Realizes he's staring openmouthed so he snaps his jaw shut with an audible click and forces himself to look up past the smooth expanse of alabaster skin of belly and chest and neck to the dark eyes again. There's a quirk of a smile on the lips, he notes as his gaze passes them, and a little more gold to the dark eyes than there was in the hallway when he was much closer and they were much less...naked.

The demon was watching, too.

Xander waits for some nasty remark about the way he was gawking at the vampire's dick - as if he'd never seen one before, as if he hadn't been on his knees with it in his mouth not too very long ago - but tonight seems to be a low vocabulary evening. No arguments from Xander for once. His brain is in low gear as well.

"You want to take that off?" asks Angelus abruptly, still standing with his arms crossed, ancient god in repose, the state of his clothing and his cock not of the slightest concern to him.

"Huh?" is all Xander can say, and then he kicks himself mentally. King of the Cretins yet again. "Take what off?" Better, still stupid, but better. He's clueless because he's not wearing anything, not even socks, and Angelus had taken the rest off of him already.

So he flinches when Angelus walks a step closer and reaches out for his throat. He holds him, not tight enough to bruise but not within the 'I can still swallow' margin either. And that's when he remembers the cross he's wearing. Feels the chain as it's lifted from his neck with the hand that isn't making oxygen an issue at the moment and then there's a small but painful burning sensation as the chain abrades his skin before it breaks and it goes flying along with its golden companion. He doesn't hear it hit the floor, but then he doesn't hear much of anything over the sound of his pulse thudding in his ears. The hand on his throat doesn't relax its grip and Xander gets that rush of adrenaline again that makes him break out in a sweat, makes his cock throb once heavily, makes it almost impossible to not swallow even though he knows he can't make all the muscles work to do it. Tries anyway and gets a painful aborted response. And a little squeeze that *does* feel like it's bruise worthy. And why did he think he would get out of this without it being about pain and pressure?

He hears a growl that makes every part of skin on his body try to crawl off, goosebumps raising the hair on his arms and neck, and he sees the face in front of him change from human to not. "You don't play games with me, boy," rasps out and Xander tries to nod. Can't, but hopes the effort is worth something. Decides it must be because the mask is back, smooth face that everyone finds so handsome, face out of a dream.

"You have so much to learn, Xander," Angelus says now, voice back to that calm tone that must have lulled a thousand victims into a sense of security, a feeling of safety, a voice that might have whispered words of sex and false love into many a maiden's willing ear. A voice that even now Xander was coming to think of as the safe mode, although it was anything but safe. It was just the pre-show. Play time.

"I'm not big on the learning curve," Xander whispers, his voice cut off by the pressure on his throat. "Of course, the lack of oxygen might have something to do with it in this case."

That earns him a smile and finally, blessed air, which he gulps in gratefully a few times before letting himself relax into a normal in and out pattern. Resists the urge to rub his neck where it hurts from the cuts and the bruising grip. Realizes with something like astonishment that at no time during his brush with the demon did his cock decide it was time to go do the lay down and rest thing.

"We'll start with simple directions. Get on the bed."

Moving slowly, pulse rate way higher than it was when he thought he was going to die, Xander obeys and sits on the edge of the bed. When Angelus walks over closer, he's back at eye level with that pale length. He licks his lips and looks up to see the arms are crossed again, the eyes dark and staring into his as if waiting for him. Angelus uncrosses his arms and reaches out to caress Xander's head, fingers ruffling the dark hair. Without any need for direction after all, he leans forward, one hand taking firm hold of the offering in front of him and guiding it into his open mouth.

It's different this time, he feels like he can make the effort to explore every part of it, taste the skin that ripples under his tongue and feel how it's different from the satin of the head. He can recognize a hundred different patterns in the veins that cover the shaft and he lets himself lick all the way down to where his hand grips it, his nose almost in the black wiry curls there. When he licks the wetness from the tip, he lets himself savor the salt of it, different from how it will taste later when the fluid is much more abundant and not clear at all.

Eyes open, Xander sees the other hand that isn't tangled in his own hair resting on Angelus's hip, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. He remembers the feeling of that hand around his own cock, the cool contrast with the heat he was radiating then, is still putting out in waves of desire and need and excitement now. Resists touching himself because he knows he'll just go at the first stoke and doesn't want to be done yet. Not by a long shot.

He hears a sigh from above and then the free hand joins the other in his hair. They force him to look up and he sees those eyes on him as Angelus says, "See, you're learning already. I didn't even have to tell you what to do. Ready for a reward?"

Xander releases the cock from his lips and nods, although he's reluctant to stop what he is enjoying; there's an odd feeling of control when he's got his mouth wrapped around the other man. But oh, the thought of a reward is exciting and terrifying in its possibilities.

"Lie back." And Xander obeys with alacrity when those hands leave his hair, sliding his body back so that he's lying fully on the bed. He watches with wide eyes as Angelus climbs onto the bed as well and proceeds to kneel over him, knees parted so that Xander's closed legs lie between them. His heart revs up into triple time as he feels the firm hand close over his cock, absolutely the best thing he's ever felt as it slides so easily up the length to engulf the head in its cool grip. His eyes flutter closed as he tries to enjoy the sensation and still keep himself from coming right then and there. It's a close thing, too, and he has no doubt that it's going to be a very short battle.

"Look at me!" Angelus' voice is very sharp and very loud, and Xander jumps when he hears it, the head of his cock slipping slightly in the other man's hand. He moans and makes himself look right at Angelus, right into the eyes that are back to brown and gold, man and demon, and oh, that's all it takes. He comes with a groan, right in that grasping hand, hot liquid running back down onto his belly and sliding off onto the bed. The hand never moves, keeps its grip on him and Xander pumps his hips helplessly into it as the waves roll through him and finally stop. He finds he's biting his lip and he's flushed with the orgasm and the embarrassment of it. He knows there's a pink flood of color over him from head to toe, he can feel it. But the expression on Angelus's face never changes. He looks vaguely pleased, and if his mouth was closed there would be a smile there. However at the moment it's open, lips parted as if he was ready to speak. Or kiss.

And that sends another wave of intoxicating feelings rushing through Xander, who tries to sit up. Not happening, though, because his cock is freed abruptly when Angelus pushes him down onto the bed again none too gently. Bares his teeth, still blunt and human, and growls, less human. "Lie still."

Then he lowers himself onto the boy and Xander gets the up close view of that mouth again before he realizes that this is exactly what he'd been waiting for, hoping for, dreaming of - skin to skin, his twitching cock pressed against the raging hardness that he remembers, his fluids and Angelus' making things down there as slippery as if they'd been drizzled with oil. Hands in Xander's hair again and the mouth on his as hips begin to move in a maddeningly slow rhythm. The cool tongue licks across his lips and dips into his mouth in time with the pumping of the hips that are making him writhe up against them. He wraps his arms around those hips and his hands find themselves on tightly clenched muscles that ripple as they move together. It's almost too much sensation for him, kisses and muscles and the weight of Angelus pressing him down into the dusty coverlet, and the slick slipperiness right on and over and under his cock as it twitches and jerks and swells back to hardness already.

The rewards of being seventeen and having never had sex before are suddenly rich and plentiful.

Xander clasps his arms tighter around Angelus, lets his fingers sweep over the curve of that firm ass before running up to the small of his back and pressing him down onto himself harder. Xander hears familiar noises coming from Angelus again, growls vibrating into his chest, sighs into his mouth. Then hands are turning Xander's face to the side and he knows that the demon is coming out again, feels the bump of ridged forehead against his ear as he whimpers once, too fast to stop himself. He's holding on tighter than before, arms locked in fear and excitement, eyes closed, hips still working although they've both slowed down. Now it's more of a glide than anything else, long measured slide down and up, and he can feel the skin on the other cock slipping less and less now that it's reached its maximum engorgement.

Xander is sure he's going to die now, and almost doesn't care. He's going to go on his own terms. He chose this method of death as surely as any suicide chose their gun or pills or the rope for their hangman's noose. He's taken a step no one else would have taken, faced the beast in its lair. And it is a beast, no matter how beautiful the mask it wears for all to see. And strangely enough it is the beast that makes Xander thrum, calls to him in a way the other Angel never had. Here's something that not even the Slayer will face, and Xander has it, has him. Or maybe it's that he belongs to the beast, and that's also a good thing in Xander's mind. Belonging to him would be fine, even if it ended in the next few minutes, ended in the shattering of orgasm and the draining of blood. Belonging was what he wanted. Needed.

But the mouth at his neck isn't biting, despite the scrape of fangs that Xander feels on the skin there, right there where his pulse is beating. It's just there, and Angelus is tonguing the artery as he thrusts against Xander, and the growls are getting louder as he gets closer to his peak. Xander makes a sound, too, when he realizes he's not going to die yet, not right now, and the sound is strangled and part relief, part tears. It makes Angelus take his mouth away and chuckle.

"Do you think this is the only place to mark you, boy?" he says into the shell of Xander's ear. "Do you think I'll leave the brand where anyone can see it?"

He slides himself down Xander's body then, just a little so that his cock slips from its usual rhythm, and Xander can see the face of the demon that's fucking itself on his body. He shudders all over when the face dips down again and the tip of the tongue brushes his nipple, followed by the scrape of a fang. He knows that one drew blood because the tongue is back again and lapping it up. He lifts his head to see; small scrape, tiny beads of blood that disappear on the pink tongue. His hands fall off of Angelus' body to grasp the sheets. They feel gritty between his fingers but he squeezes even harder when his other nipple gets the same lick and suck treatment. His hips are still, his whole body is rigid, but Angelus is still stroking himself over and over on Xander's body. If the vampire intends to bleed him to death one scratch at a time, he'll go insane from the feel of it long before he dies.

The ache is building in his cock again, though, and Xander thinks he might just be ready to come again. Lets his hips begin their pushing despite his momentary fear just seconds ago. Realizes he is grunting with each thrust and that each grunt is a word.

"Yes...god...yes...now..."

The demon is growling with him, and says, "Look at me" again in that same dark and animalistic voice. So Xander locks his stare on the golden eyes and almost screams when the thrusts get faster, faster, harder than before and it's like liquid satin, friction creating the heat that the vampire's body cannot as his hips piston and drive, the juices between them pooling and molten.

Then Xander does scream, loud and long, body arching up off the bed in its release, joined moments later by Angelus who presses his face down hard on the boy's neck and roars, hands gripping Xander's arms as he keeps himself from biting, from tearing open smooth skin and drinking in the hot blood he can smell there. Instead he pushes himself down onto the body that's still quivering beneath him and spreads the thighs that are tense but fall open easily at his touch. Gasping, Xander sits up as he feels Angelus' hands parting his legs and sees the demon's face leering back at him.

"I told you, boy, there are other places to mark you." And then there's a huge daggerlike pain in his leg as the fangs pierce his skin, finding the artery there with the precision and ease of a skilled hunter. Xander makes a groaning sound that is remarkably similar to the ones he was making earlier in the throes of ecstasy. The coverlet he has been gripping gets pulled up to his mouth so he can bite down hard on it and muffle the noise. He tries to think about the dusty taste it delivers but it's no good; all he can think about is the pain of the penetration, the feeling of loss as his blood leaves his body, the idea that he is going to die after all.

Angelus drinks just enough to temper his appetite, though, and then stops. He licks the wound to help it heal but not enough to prevent a scar there. Marked. Branded. Possessed.

When he comes up from between Xander's thighs, his demon is sated for the moment, his human face back. He pulls the dirty coverlet from the boy's hands and mouth, pushing him down onto his back again. "Relax," he says, back to the safe-voice, but it's just not quite working this time.

Xander laughs unpleasantly. "Relax? Not on the top ten list of things to do when a vampire's drinking your blood." Pauses to swallow and then asks. "Are you done? With the blood I mean."

"What about being done with everything else?" Angelus is lounging on the bed beside him now, and reaches over to tweak Xander's nipple just to see him squirm. "Do you think we're done with everything else, Xander?"

"I'm thinking that there is no right answer to that question," he pants as the hands travels lower, across his sticky belly and down to his finally quiescent cock. It twitches a little but nothing else. Even 17 year old boys need a little down time apparently. A quick glance at Angelus confirms the fact that vampires, possibly of any age, do not.

The cool hand continues to stroke Xander and the feeling is one of almost-pain. Xander is not surprised, therefore, when it seems he needs less downtime than one might expect. He's swelling just enough to make it obvious to them both that this could go on for a while. Angelus strokes and rubs and coaxes Xander into a healthy and extremely enflamed erection while Xander himself squirms and wriggles and gasps on the coverlet. When he's as hard as he can possibly be, and he wonders what new tricks he's about to learn, Angelus lets him go and rolls off the bed onto his feet.

"Your final lesson for the day, boy. You're never done until I say you are. Get dressed. Go home." Angelus is shrugging into his shirt as he says this. Xander cannot be sure he heard correctly, but is at least in possession of enough self preservation to not say anything at all, despite the black thoughts that are gathering in his head. He sighs, though, a huge gust of air that makes the vampire turn to look over his shoulder. He drops his gaze to the angry red head of Xander's cock and smiles. "Take care of that before you go."

This time the words blurt out of him, impossible to stop. "You got it that way, *you* take care of it." And he gets up off the bed with a grunt of irritation. His body is sore all over, from the cuts on his neck left by the broken chain and the vague pain in his throat from where it was gripped by the bruising hand, to the mark on his thigh and his overworked dick. It's too much to take, that final tossed off comment bent on humiliating him, and he's had more than enough abuse for one day. Xander has reached his quota, thank you very much.

He finds himself slammed into the wall in a flash, hard forearm pressing into his already complaining throat, other hand gripping his cock painfully. The hand gives a few hard tugs and a tight pinch at the head that makes him shout, and when Angelus says, "You sure about that, boy? You want me to finish this for you?" Xander growls back.

And that earns him a laugh and freedom, and as he cups his hand protectively over himself, Angelus slaps him on the shoulder. "It's good to have balls, Xander. Just remember that when you're with me, you could lose them." He smacks Xander across the face, barely a tap, just making the point. Grabs his jaw and jerks him up for a rough kiss.

Still holding him there, he says into the boy's mouth, "It's getting dark. Get dressed and go home. I'd hate to have anything happen to you." Another kiss to punctuate the innuendo, tongue sliding in to taste everything in Xander's mouth, mouth working until Xander kisses back.

Angelus releases him and watches the boy get dressed as he buttons his own shirt. Xander's pants are fine but his shirt is torn and ruined. He's standing there in those khakis with the faint remains of a stain on the front of them and his bare chest still flushed from anger and climax. Angelus turns to a trunk and opens it, tosses a dark bundle to the boy who catches it one handed. Shakes it out and looks at him over the shirt he's holding at arm's length, has some internal struggle over whether or not to argue and decides not to make the effort. Pulls the black shirt over his head with a look on his face that says he'd rather walk out naked.

"Go ahead. I've got things to do," Angelus tells him as he tucks his shirt into his trousers and runs a hand through his hair.

Xander opens his mouth to ask a question, or maybe to tell him to fuck off. He's not sure himself until his mouth is actually open and nothing whatsoever comes out. He closes it, opens it again and desperately tries to find something to say so he's not just walking out like some bad puppy sent to the kitchen. Fails miserably as he sees Angelus turn his back, not the least bit concerned at what he might have to say or do. Leaves the remains of his shirt on the floor where it has been lying since it was torn from his body.

When he reaches the door, he hears his name and turns. Sees something flash in midair and puts out his hand to catch it. It's his cross and the broken chain. He looks over at Angelus, who has his arms crossed again and is leaning against the wall in a posture of complete relaxation. Xander slides the gold into his pocket as the he hears yet another instruction from the teacher.

"Don't wear that again. The punishment won't be pleasant." One eyebrow quirks at him and the smirk is back.

Xander grits his teeth and smiles. "Oh, yes Sir. I'm just a fucking teacher's pet today, aren't I?"

"If you learned as well in school as you do under me, you'd be valedictorian, Xander. Go home."

So Xander does, walks out without slamming the door behind him, walks down the hallway and up the stairs without putting his fist through the wall. He's learning about control in all kinds of ways.

~end.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addiction is such an ugly word. Accurate, but ugly.

The mark on his inner thigh heals into a twisted little line and Xander finds himself rubbing it. Often.

Anyone who sees him might think he's stroking his dick - and said dick would be rather large considering the location the friction is centered - but it's the scar he needs to touch. It burns him constantly, like he was bitten by something with poison in its mouth.

And that's pretty much the case.

So it's not a shock when Xander ends up sitting on his bed with a flashlight and his mother's hand mirror, legs spread as he tries to balance the mirror on the rumpled sheets and bends down to see it, light catching the thready silver twists that stretch over pale smoothness in the dim. He needs the other hand free to touch it, needs to see his hand and his skin and his scar twinned in the spotty little reflection. He's naked, and he's hard and the only thing he wants to do is touch the place where he was marked. It's some weird compulsion, a mix of desire and something not as identifiable but definitely dark.

And that's not exactly the case, either. He wants more than that; wants to feel the marking again, to be less terrified and more aware this time so he can relish the puncture and the draining and the possession that is inherent in the act. Wants that part of the whole encounter because he knows somehow that it's special. Singular. How many people are there spinning in this world tonight in the exact moment and reality occupied by Xander, living and breathing and bearing *his* mark?

He's guessing it's larger by one than anyone would believe.

With this thought in mind, he scoots back against the wall, and adjusts the mirror again so he can see that brand on his skin. He drops the flashlight, lets it roll off the bed with a muffled little thump, and glances over to the door for a visual confirmation that he really did remember to lock it. And once he has that last reassuring look, hismind shuts down.

His head leans back against the wall and he takes himself in hand, the whole length of him hot and slippery, and all that just from the scar, just from looking at it, touching it. Xander's hands are both moving over heated flesh, cock and thigh, strokes slow and in unison, and he cannot tell which feels better, which feels hotter...dirtier...

And when the tapping comes on his window, he is so startled that he almost shoots right there, grasps himself convulsively from the shock, and flushes from hairline to toes in horrible embarrassment to think someone has caught him doing ... this. Not only naked, not only touching himself, but also revelling in being owned.

Of course it's Angelus staring in, watching him like a wolf tracks a rabbit. Xander isfrozen in that stare, pinned to the wall, his heart thundering along in what he hates to admit is more excitement than anything else. As if to confirm this thought, his cock gives a throbbing lurch in his hand, and he swallows down about a gallon of saliva before loosening his hold on the painfully erect column of flesh. The white oval of Angelus' face seems to hover out there in the dark. He's crouched like some modern day gargoyle, eyes black and staring at the pale offering of the boy's nudity, mouth in a relaxed line that suggests nothing of the mood he might be in.

"Hello, Xander," Angelus says, as conversationally as if they had met for dinner somewhere and were going to discuss something of mutual and tedious almost-interest to them both. As if he isn't perched on the roof outside of Xander's window and knocking very gently on the glass, watching the boy masturbate and fondle the mark he has left on him. "Open the window."

Xander grins at him, a grin full of absolute and horrible glee. "You really think I'm an idiot, don't you?" is the reply, although he makes the initial move to get to the edge of the bed, and Angelus sees; suppresses his smile because that would cue Xander that he has done something, made some faux pas, and the boy is clever.

"I can't come in, you know that." Pauses. "Unless you want me in there." Smiles. "Do you want me? To come in?" Oh-so-deliberate in his enunciation of each word, layering on the innuendo like caramel, too sweet to deny, too thick to ignore.

And Xander swallows again, feet on the floor, standing up in a puddle of moonlight that traces his tall lithe frame with silver and shadow, his cock glistening as it bounces slightly with the movement. Too hard for it to get a lot of motion going. And yes, just that much harder now than it was when he was alone and stroking it.

"I'm pretty sure you know the answer to that one." Xander's voice has lost all conversational overtones. Instead it's strained, and Angelus watches the boy fight his thoughts, sees each side gain and lose and gain again in the incredibly expressive darkness that is in his eyes. The way those eyes shift and go soft is more telling than the steps he is taking towards the window without even realizing it.

One large hand splays out against the window and Xander looks at it. Remembers it, on his throat. On his thighs. On his cock. //Oh fuck, let's not go there// And he wonders how he got from the bed to the window without remembering, without telling his body to move, and what had his brain been doing while his legs were off doing their own thing like that? His brain, happy to be free of the usual constraints placed on it, had been merrily wandering down memory lane. Picking out choicehighlights of the exact way that body out there had looked naked, had felt on top of him, sliding over him, coming in his mouth, down his throat. The weight and the chill of him.

Xander unlatches the window and hey, apparently the brain cells devoted to self preservation have managed to kick the sex drive on its ass for a moment, because he stops short of sliding it up. Blinks rapidly at the image of his hand on the glass mimicking the larger one on the other side. Understands now what it means to be really helpless, to be overcome by his own urges, to be out of control. He's so aware of what it would mean to open the window and invite him in; danger and sex andkisses and just having that feeling of being someone's *anything* for a while.

His mind, oh, it really wants to be the part of him that wins. But the whole time he's still sliding open the window, so the barrier now is just the magic one, the one that keeps the demon out.

Angelus still has his hand there, pressed against the barrier, open in his own invitation and Xander just wants to take it. Isn't surprised to see his own hand reach out, is even less surprised than that to find the grip that meets him is hardand rough and it jerks him right through the open window, his upper torso now outside with Angelus, his lower half in the safety of the house. He can't see the barrier there, but he swears he can feel it. It's cutting right through him, bright blue like a laser. He imagines it burning an arc through his midsection that leaves his hips and legs warm even as they are pressed painfully against the wall and the sill, andhis upper body cool out here in the darkness.

Angelus has his hand clamped around Xander's wrist, and after the initial jerk, he is just holding. Steady pressure but definite restraint.

"Come out and play, Xander," he says with a grin. The roof looks wide and level from here, and Xander knows it will hold them both easily. That the porch beneath it is empty as is the street his house sits on. The whole town goes indoors at sunset, and since they are a few hours past that point there's drawn curtains and closed blinds and no one to see him slither out and be naked in the moonlight.

And that's how it feels when he comes out, like he's a serpent, oily and slipping on his belly, hips twisted to avoid the rough edges against his cock. The roofing is bumpy and harsh to his knees and he whistles a sharp intake of breath when he rests his whole weight there.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." He's said it out loud, proof again that he has no control over his basic motor skills, like the one that keeps his mouth shut. But there's no ripping comment forthcoming from the vampire. He pulls Xander closer with another jerk of his arm and Xander grunts a little as he leaves skin behind on the surface of the shingles. The warm oozing in his knees is not even registering on theradar now.

He feels too many other things: cool night air, cooler leather of the coat he's pressed against, hard body under that duster that echoes the hardness of his own. Beautiful beautiful face coming down to his so that Xander loses focus and sees blurs of white and dark and pink, and all of that is just his mouth. The mouth that opens ever so slightly and utters words that take a few seconds more than usual to make actualsense in Xander's brain.

"You only do what you want to do, boy." A hand comes up to take Xander's chin in a light hold, almost a caress, and forces his head up just a bit so that he has to see the dark eyes staring into his own. "You know you want this. You walked across the room. You unlocked the window, and you put your hand out here for me to take it. You could have stayed in that room. You could have told me to fuck off."

There's a pause now, and Xander thinks he might die if that mouth stops talking for much longer. But then it's better and it's worse because he's being kissed, his mouth forced wide open with a savage thrust of tongue that makes his thighs quiver, and he finds himself grabbing Angelus' jacket to keep his balance, tearing his wrist from the other man so he can hold on tightly, kissing back as hard as he can. Xander'sown tongue sweeps into the open mouth and it's so familiar to him already that it shakes him up more than anything else has done.

He knows this now, he's come to think of this as *his* mouth, as *his* tongue, those teeth that will soon be fangs are *his*, to lick and taste and suck and... oh God and devour. He finds the ripple in Angelus' canine that his own tongue fucking well *remembers* and licks it over and over again, much as his hands have been worrying that scar on his thigh. And it seems that the other man knows what he's doing because Xander can feel him growling as the tension and desire between themgrows. It's like static electricity and every time Xander's naked body moves against Angelus, it makes the charge that much more powerful.

Angelus grabs the boy's hair in both hands and drags him away, breaking the kiss and leaving Xander's chest heaving. He holds the boy's hair tight, tighter, tightest as he brings his face in so that the words he says next won't be missed.

"You don't want me to fuck off, do you Xander?" He whispers it into Xander's ear, practically purrs this next statement: "You want me to fuck you." His cool tongue flicks out to catch the tender lobe, then the inner curve. And Xander isn't sure if it's the words or the tongue or the truth of it that makes him moan and quiver and grab the jacket even tighter.

Because he does want it, wants the rest of what they've been edging towards, wants to be filled and fucked full. When he finds his voice and he manages to say yes, it comes out with more force than Xander would have thought he could give it. He wants to drive his tongue into that cool mouth again and pulls frantically against the hands that hold his hair, feeling the burning it creates in his scalp and realizing it's not something he can get free from. Not until Angelus lets him go. And he thinks...no, he *knows*... if he could ask for it, ask for the freedom and the kisses,that he would get them. Would get them and everything else he wants, everything that Angelus is going to give him.

He opens his mouth to ask, to fucking well beg for all of it, but before he has to make himself say the words, he's free. The big hands that had clenched tight in his hair aren't holding him anymore; they're over Xander's hands, removing them from the death grip on the leather, pressing him back so there's no contact. There's a huge rushing feeling of icy fear that goes with that removal, and for a moment Xander teeters on panic because...because //Because he's rejecting me// but then it's OK. It's all OK because Angelus is just taking the jacket off. And he's not even laughing at the panic that must have been pouring out of Xander's skin for that second or two of utter abandonment, so Xander relaxes as much as he can and takes in a small degree of comfort.

Tentatively, he reaches out to the buttons on the vampire's black shirt, head resolutely down, not wanting to see if there's going to be some kind of disapproving look in his eyes, or anything else to make him falter. His fingers, never very nimble to begin with, are suddenly stupid and he finds to his absolute horror that he can't make the buttons work. Swallowing dryly, he keeps trying and trying, and actually manages to get one out of its button hole before those big cool hands take over, brushing Xander's away. But the brushing movement isn't cruel or dismissive, and instead of working the buttons, those hands take the edges of the shirt and just tear it open, exposing a broad chest the color of marble.

With a shock, Xander finds himself grabbed and tossed to the rooftop. He has enough time to think about how much it's going to tear up his skin before he lands on something surprisingly soft. As the heavy body of the other man comes down on top of him, Xander realizes he's laying in the discarded duster and then the mouth is on him, devouring him. Sweep of tongue between his lips and Xander opens as wide as he can, gratefully taking in the whole of it again, sucking and being rewarded with a growl that makes Xander shudder beneath him.

Hips pressing up, he squirms for the friction of cloth on his cock as his hands grip broad shoulders and squeeze in frustrated need. Angelus nudges one knee between Xander's thighs and the boy spreads them willingly. A sliver of doubt goes through his mind - the posture is nothing if not vulnerable - but before the sliver can grow to anything worth paying attention to, there's a mouth at his throat and a cool tongue licking, and he knows about the other places to be marked so there's just a thrill of desire instead of panic.

Xander makes his own growling sounds and his hands are at the waistband of Angelus' pants. His fingers aren't stupid anymore, desire has made them brilliant and clever, and the button pops open, the zipper slides right down, and Xander's hand is full of the prize it was seeking. He's thrilled to find it not just hard but wet, slick with precome, and his hand slides easily over the length of it. When he reaches the base and tugs, Angelus bites down on Xander's neck with thankfully blunt teeth and mutters, "Oh fuck" into the skin. The words are thick and heavy, and the pain of the bite is just enough to make Xander slam his hips up, trapping his hand between their bodies. He's panting now, and all it's going to take is one more sensation to throw him headlong into release, and he just doesn't want that yet, not yet, needs to be this wound up for the courage to carry him into the act he asked for moments ago.

Of course, this is the moment Angelus chooses to push back, and when Xander slips his hand free it's nothing but cock to cock friction. With a groan he couldn't muffle if he wanted to, Xander comes, hears Angelus chuckle somewhere near his ear and jerks spasmodically until finally he stops moving altogether and lies there with the warm evidence of his excitement sandwiched wetly between them.

He hitches in his breath and sighs, but Angelus is nowhere near ready to move. He nibbles on Xander's ear and purrs at him a little more, lets his hands run over the boy's thighs and pumps his cock just the tiniest bit now and then. Under these irresistible ministrations, Xander's cocks swells to life in no time and soon he's whimpering and pushing back.

As if this was the signal to move on, Angelus gets to his knees. He looks down at Xander who is sprawled out in the most reckless image of wanton abandonment the vampire has seen in decades, and manages to spread the boy's legs wider with a graceful movement of his own that also allows him to drop his pants completely.

"Oh Xander, you are such a pleasant surprise."

Xander licks his lips and fumbles for an answer to that, but nothing crawls out of the mud that is brain right now. All he can do is lay there and look up, take in the way the moonlight is making the vampire's skin glow, and just *want*... something. Everything. He turns away from the intensity of Angelus' stare and finds his face muffled by the folds of the coat. He is suddenly drowning in the smell of the man above him, scent of his sweat and his sex and the blood he's taken. And while his face is in there and his brain is floundering, there's suddenly hands on him again.

Rather than look, rather than see it, Xander presses his face deeper into the jacket and lets himself just feel those fingers as they swirl through the come on his belly and tickle down his dick and graze over the softness of his sack before finding the sensitive place right beneath it. Those torturous fingers rub there for a moment before slipping lower to the puckered opening where Xander both wants and fears them. He moans wildly into the jacket and then bites down on it when one wet finger presses itself into him.

It hurts for one brief second and then it moves again, deeper inside of him and it hurts still but in a better way, a good hurt and he reminds himself to breathe so he won't miss the rest of what's going to happen. He is in love with the shield of this jacket that he's hiding in while his body is enjoying the way it's being used, because if Xander had to look, had to see it happening, he would just die. He wouldn't be able to spread his legs wider, the way he is now, certainly not if he were completely aware of it.

"Xander." It's like Angelus reads his mind, because just as he's losing himself in the joy of not-really-being here, Xander is summoned back to reality by the voice his brain immediately obeys. He has to look up and see that face, eyes more gold than they were before, mouth parted and full, and tongue visible. If Xander looks down, he'll see that hand disappearing between his legs. He gulps down air instead and locks his stare and trembles with the feeling of penetration that's racing through him.

"Xander," he says again, voice deeper and finger pushing, pushing until

"OH!" The sound is ripped out of the boy when that finger hits...something...inside of him and it's like having a jolt of electricity hit every nerve ending all at once. Angelus' eyes go completely golden then for the briefest moment, his face blurs to demon and then it's back again. But Xander can tell that it's not too much longer before there's nothing but demon here with him. And that gives him a nice little zap as well.

"I want..." Xander is shocked to find his voice and stutters to silence. Bites his bottom lip when the finger slides out of him leaving him feeling open, and so tries again to say what he is feeling. "I want ..."

Angelus cocks his head to one side and then puts his fingers back on Xander's belly, drawing lazy circles. Xander's cock twitches at his touch, and he waits for the boy to finish. "You want?" he prompts, voice quiet and low and sexier than Xander remembers it ever being before.

Xander's eyes slide closed, and he lets his whole body take in everything - the soft leather beneath him, the smell of the night and the vampire, the whispering of the leaves on the tree over the house. The fingers that are gathering more moisture from his skin and wrapping around his throbbing cock, stroking it with torturously slow movements.

"You want, Xander?" Angelus' voice is taunting him again and without opening his eyes at all, Xander nods his head. The fingers leave his cock and go straight back between his legs and he arches into the pressure this time so that there's no slowness in it. He's just not empty there anymore and that's what he wants, that's exactly what he wants. There's that electric shock of pleasure again as the finger touches him and he moans again, this time a word. "Yesssss."

There's more pressure now and Xander wriggles a little but it's still good. He can feel those muscles down there getting looser, softening up. Angelus is fingering him with exquisite care and he doesn't want to wonder why the other man is taking such care, is being so gentle, he just wants him to keep doing it. He wants him to keep slipping in and out and touching that perfect spot over and over again because he's going to come in about five seconds. Xander's hand reaches for his own cock, he needs to touch himself, but Angelus grabs the hand and stops him.

"No, no, you don't touch," he says, smiling like a predator and making Xander want to run away. And he would run, he really would, if he didn't feel so fucking good right now, if he didn't want to come so badly. So he jerks his wrist towards himself, hoping the motion will carry Angelus down towards him, but it doesn't work. Angelus doesn't move, he just keeps working his finger in and out and smiling.

"Then you touch," Xander groans. "Touch me."

"I *am* touching you." There's a deep stroke in to compliment this statement and a curl of the finger to add a little extra emphasis and there's no argument from Xander. Just another moan and a brief sigh at the end of it. "Does this mean you want more now?"

"Yessss," hisses out between clenched teeth. That's an answer purely on reflex and no thought goes into it, just as no thought goes into the jerking motion of his hand when he tries to free it again and fails. He feels the finger leave him and thinks about protesting but sees that hand that was just driving him insane wrap itself around Angelus' cock. He sees the way the cock gets glittery as the wetness spreads from head to base and takes note of how much bigger it is than what was already inside him. He starts to move then, a panicky flurry that's immediately quelled because his wrist is still held. Angelus doesn't even spare him a glance.

Instead he continues to stroke himself and hold tight to Xander. When he is ready to move, he does it with a speed that would be frightening if it didn't end with Xander pinned beneath the whole length and weight of him. Instead of fright, this produces a wave of desire and a need to push his hips frantically up so that his cock rubs against Angelus'. He notes almost absently that his legs are still spread wide open and that Angelus is slipping down his body and the friction is wonderful, although the reason for the movement itself is a little terrifying.

Then it's right there, right at the opening and Xander is frantically trying to remember how it was before when there were much smaller things pressing to be inside. "No, wait," he says frantically and he writhes in a desperate bid to postpone this. Instead what he finds he's done is pressed himself down and the pain is huge, it's awful and he hates it and he wants to get away...until. Until it's not quite so awful. He sees the cords standing out on Angelus' arms and in his neck as he remains perfectly still and lets Xander get used to the sensations, the delicious pain. The control on his behalf floors Xander and he feels his cock throb in realization, and that makes him push himself down again, and both of them groan this time.

"Enough, boy," Angelus growls and the demon is loose. Xander gasps as he is fully entered in a slow measured push, and the ridged game face comes down close to his. Xander's legs are brought to his shoulders, and he's curled up and wide open and the demon is fucking him with expert strokes. Each one brings the head of Angelus' cock into contact with that amazing place inside of Xander, making them both gasp and moan, and in no time at all Xander is coming, hot liquid shooting all over his chest.

Another two strokes and Angelus is growling and coming, filling Xander as he pushes in harder and holds there, gripping his thighs and leaving scratches and fingerprint shaped bruises that Xander will see for days afterwards. His head is back and Xander is waiting. But when he looks down again, the demon is hiding and Xander is completely shocked at the disappointment that fills him.

"Aren't you going to..." he asks quietly, pausing to think of how to phrase it. Tries again with, "Are you going to do the rest?" He flushes at how stupid that sounds, but he wants to know, he wants it to happen.

"What's the rest, Xander?" But he's smirking now. He knows what the rest is, he's going to make him say it anyway, make him ask for this when he gave him the other without any torture at all.

"You know the rest," Xander says, backing up and breaking the two of them apart so suddenly that he can't process that sudden emptiness inside him, the way it feels to be full one moment and then not. He's too intent on getting the other part, the part he is looking forward to. The marking. The possession. The part that says he's owned.

"Tell me anyway. I want to hear you say it."

So he grits his teeth and he looks full on into his eyes and he asks for it, begs for it, because he needs it so badly. "I want you to feed from me again. I want that. Again."

A condescending smile answers him before the gameface appears, and Angelus bends to the bare thigh. "Do you want another mark to touch, Xander?" he whispers as he licks the skin and Xander shivers. Before he can answer, there is suddenly a flare of pain and he yelps, more in surprise than in hurt. The pain is nothing like it was the first time and Xander loses himself in the feeling. There's needles and daggers, and there's an odd sensation as the blood is sucked away, and Xander reaches his hand down to touch Angelus' head as he's feeding from him.

Then the deep pain is gone, replaced by a little soreness when the vampire's tongue licks at the spot to stop the bleeding. His new mark is just a little higher than the old one and later when he looks at this one, Xander will be absurdly pleased with himself.

Somewhere along the line, this all got way out of hand, and Xander wonders where that was. He watches as Angelus dresses himself and ignores the drying come that stains his pants. His mind slows down enough to begin thinking about those things that he manages to suppress when he's more on guard and less worn out. Things like why he's still alive right now, and not lying in a drawer with a toe tag and a complexion like Deadboy's. Like why he's tested his luck with the vampire, stretched the trust barrier until you could read the fucking phone book through it, offered his blood like it was something he was going to throw out anyway, so help yourself. He has issues, he knows this, but he wonders what good it does Angelus to treat him like a pet when his dead body would be such an effective statement in the mindfuck games he plays with Buffy.

Xander wonders about all of these things, and realizes he really doesn't want to know right now. So he waits and tries not to touch the sore spot on his thigh until later, when he's alone and he needs it. Needs the reminder that he's a part of something, a piece of something. He's gotten himself into something that's bigger than anyone would believe him capable of handling, and Xander is surviving it quite nicely, thanks for your concern.

He's got the scars to prove it.

~end


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel on the brink and into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during "Reprise" and "Epiphany"
> 
> Majorly dub-con, possible entirely Non-Con.

The sound of his boot heels echoes around him, clear against the background noise that swirls on every side. Angel sees something new in the humans before him tonight, sees the darkness that drives them all. Holland Manners has made it so clear, and Angel wonders why he never saw it before.

// If there wasn't evil inside every one of them out there, they wouldn't be human. They'd be angels.//

Finding the car takes long moments of wandering aimlessly, his thoughts clouded with realizations that he cannot sort out into any logical order. There is no fight to win, there is nothing to battle. Evil, darkness, they exist and will continue to do so, and his promised redemption is nothing more than a tattered, useless prize. Carrot and stick, and he had fallen for it.

Sounds of a fight to his left and Angel turns to watch dispassionately as two men rage and shove each other. Somehow he knows that one of them has a knife and the other will be dead or dying in a moment. Turning his back, Angel walks away. Remembers where he left the car, heads there and never looks back, even when the scent of blood hits the air.

=====

The ride to Sunnydale flashes by him on a blur of rising fear and loneliness. He's going on instinct now, the basic undiluted animal need to seek comfort in times of distress. Something inside of him is urging him on, but he isn't sure what is driving him, demon or panic. Possibly both, one feeding the other until he's in this fevered pitch of hurt and confusion.

Parks in the shadows of a tree down the street from her house and makes his way to the front yard. Silently he slips into the hedges and watches.

Golden light inside the living room, family gathered. He can hear their voices, the tones distinct and well remembered. Joyce admonishing Dawn to finish her homework, Dawn's irritated reply, and then the voice that still resonates through him, right to his backbone every time he hears it. Buffy joins them, and he is caught in the web of her, the light of her. Gaze eagerly taking in every detail //her hair's longer, she's lost weight, she looks so tired// and letting the pain of it all wash over him. Watching as the sisters argue in mock anger, teasing affection evident in every syllable, Angel is struck again with the force of a physical blow with his otherness. His non-belonging. Evidence presented to him once again that he has no place in this world, and never will.

Peal of Dawn's laughter and he looks closely, sees how she's grown. More young woman than child, and he'll never know her now, never learn her habits, never be part of her world. He thinks with real longing of Cordelia and Wesley, and the family he had with them, the one he destroyed with his words as brutally as Angelus ever murdered with claw and fang.

Steps out of the hedges, head reeling with the ache inside him, and comes face to face with Xander. They freeze and the light wind brings Angel a rich wave of Xander's pheromones. He blinks slowly as he detects fear, anger. A definite streak of desire that's as strong as the other two combined, although twisted and interlaced with something else, something like what he imagines hatred might smell like. The beast within, already rustling at the gates, sits up and takes notice, draws back the curtain on memories of Xander and he in another skin. Taunting flickers of not-so-long-ago indulgences, carnal and fleshy, colored crimson in recollection.

//Xander naked, on his knees, on his back, mouth open and wet, Xander's blood, Xander's come, all of it, all of it//

Flash stream of recall interrupted by "So Deadboy, you hung up the Batman cape and reverted to stalking again?"

// Xander begging, baring his inner thigh; Xander submitting, head bowed //

Angel just stares; he can hear the boy's heartbeat from here, sees him tense for the flight that Angel knows is a breath away, says in a low voice, "I remember everything." It could pass for apology if he lets it, but he won't. They'd existed in false ignorance for weeks after his return, before the journey to LA, and he'd let Xander fall back on the comfort of believing the memories to be his alone. Tonight the pretense is too much to maintain, and why should he bother, really?

"Fuck. See, I knew I should have begged off the babysitting job tonight." Xander runs a hand through his hair, sighs, looks over Angel's shoulder in what is doubtless hope of rescue from the situation.

Angel watches the boy make some kind of decision, sees his eyes flicker a split second before he breaks and runs, and this too is familiar. Remembers with blinding clarity the night he took him in the alley, Angelus in charge but every memory is there and clamoring for attention. Blur of movement and Xander's trapped in his arms, one hand over his mouth. Arm like a steel band over the boy's chest, and he lifts and hauls him to the car. Presses him against the hood, flips him abruptly so they are face to face.

"You can get in, or I can cover your face until you pass out and I put you in myself." States the situation calmly, sees Xander's eye widen and then narrow as he considers the options. Small nod and Angel releases his mouth. "You'll be getting in on your own then?"

"It's a close choice, but oxygen deprivation gives me a headache. You're the lesser of two evils." Emphasis on 'lesser' and Angel smirks at him.

"I think we both know that's not the case at all." He puts a hand on Xander's chest, holds him there effortlessly as he unbuckles his own belt and snaps it out of the loops in a long motion. Grabs Xander's wrists, loops the belt over and around, binds them tight. "Just a little insurance that you won't try and do something stupid like jump out of a moving car."

"Or stake you while you're driving?" Xander tugs on the leather, irritated jerking movement that will only make the loop tighter, cut off the circulation to his hands. Flinches away when Angel reaches out and grabs his shirt, pulls him upright, hurries him into the car. Leaps in nimbly right behind him, one boot step over Xander's tense body and slithering down into place behind the wheel.

"Where are you taking me?" Shake to the voice that Angel knows Xander hates to show and he turns his head.

"Your apartment." Watches the realization flicker over the boy's face, wonders if he'll make the Willow-Cordelia connection. Sees him get another thought that lessens the panic for him just a notch. Angel lets him keep his secret to himself for the time being. Pulls away from the curb and drives, one hand wound around the belt that is cutting into the skin on Xander's wrists.

=====

Up the steps, down the hallway, and they stand at Xander's door. Angel prompts him for the keys and takes no small measure of satisfaction in reaching into Xander's front pocket to pull them out. Lets his hands brush the bump of hipbone through khaki and nothing more before hooking the keyring with his finger and drawing them out. Only then does he release the belt and watch Xander shake his hands and wince as the blood flow returns.

"Thanks, that was the most fun I've had in weeks," he spits out, rubbing the angry marks on first one wrist and then the other.

"As I recall, you always did like the bondage portions of our evenings. Made you feel all out of control and helpless, like you weren't really the one who came to me every time." Angel's face so close to the boy's and he sees the flush spread like fire over his face and neck. Hovers there for a minute, eyes hooded and watching, waiting for the response. Sees him open his mouth once, twice, and swallow down whatever thought flashed through his head, and this is new. Xander has learned to think before speaking on occasion.

Angel steps back and lets him slide the key in the lock. Hears the tumblers roll over, the click of the knob as it turns, and the second the door swings open, he grabs Xander by the neck, hauls him back against him.

"Just so we're straight on the etiquette for the night, you *will* be inviting me in." Mouth by Xander's ear, and the heat of the boy burning through the clothes he wears.

"Fuck you." Gasping pants, but he doesn't struggle. Stands there until Angel grasps his wrists and pulls the behind his back, palms pressed up and fingers spread. Holds the wrists in one hand and wraps his other hand around Xander's index finger.

"I guarantee that I can get you to invite me in before I break all ten fingers. Want to make a bet on it?" Tightens the hand around the first finger and twists just a little, just enough to hear the boy yelp. Wonders if he will actually have to do it after all.

"Fine you prick. You're invited in. Now get *off* of me!" Pulling away and shrugging his shoulders, Xander steps into the apartment. Angel is on his heels.

The door isn't even clicked closed behind them and the phone rings, shrill screech that makes Xander jump. He makes a move to answer it, but Angel pushes past him, grabs it by the base and tugs. It comes off the wall and hits the floor with the crack of plastic and twang of snapping cord. Angel watches Xander look up from the wreck of the phone, sees his throat working as he tries to swallow. Smells the fear climb up to the highest note on the scale of scents he is putting out.

Finally Xander manages to speak. "What are you doing here? I don't play these games anymore."

Hands on his hips, Angel considers the question. Cannot begin to give him an answer, because he doesn't have one to offer. Thinks again of the self-satisfied smirk on the face of Holland Manners as he tells him all the things that Angel has never wanted to know.

//When you locked those cellar doors and left me to die, you reached your Shanshu. In that moment. With that one act -- you were as close to your own humanity as you'll ever be.//

Feels the weight of his own singularity push down on his shoulders, crushing loneliness, dark and endless. Steps toward Xander, says, "I'm not playing. I just want to feel something besides the cold."

Steps again, grabs the boy, feels him shaking. Xander's hands come up, push against Angel's chest, feeble attempt to escape. The thrumming of his blood is louder than anything in the world, the smell of him invading Angel's skin, heat radiating off in waves that crash against him. Scent of blood and lust as powerful as the temperature of his skin, the texture of it still branded in his brain, calling him to the tumble-glide from his pedestal of denial.

Pulls him in closer, nose brushing against his face, down to his neck, whispers, "Don't you feel the cold?" and inhales the tang of arousal that is beginning to override everything else.

"No, I don't feel...anything," Xander groans out, but his body betrays him when Angel strokes a hand down his back, presses him in so their hips touch and he can feel the hardness there. Lets his mouth brush against his neck, tongue flicking out to wet the skin above the jugular.

"I feel everything." Rubbing movement of his hips produces another wordless sound from Xander, and Angel lets his mouth trail up the boy's neck, across his jaw. Rough brush of stubble against his own skin, and can almost feel the tension as Xander tries to fight the conditioned response.

One hand in the dark curls, sharp tug that elicits a gasp, and Angel takes the open mouth with his own. Slick tongue invades Xander's mouth, runs harshly across teeth and palette, and it's so warm in there. Warmer still when Xander responds, his own tongue coming up to meet Angel's and the hands on Angel's chest fisting his shirt, holding it tight.

When the kiss breaks, Xander opens his eyes and shoves hard on Angel's chest, startles him with the movement, causes Angel to lose his grip. Looks down at Xander, who is sprawled on the floor gracelessly, flushed and shaking, eyes heavy and mouth swollen.

"You can't do this," Xander grinds out from between clenched teeth, but makes no attempt to stand. "It's over, it's history, and I..." His words cut off abruptly as Angel drops to his knees between his legs and throws his body on the boy. Rough hungry kisses prevent any more protests from being heard as Angel devours the soft mouth under his. Xander's frantic movements inflame him further as he twists and turns beneath the heavier, cooler body and with a low growl he captures his arms and pins him to the floor.

Thrill, adrenaline-like rush, and this is well remembered. Flicker of something gleefully perverse as his cock throbs heavily while the boy struggles beneath him. The gone-but-never-lost awe of dominance, and this is warm, this is fucking well *home.*

Nothing but black depths in his eyes when he stops kissing Xander long enough to tell him, "It doesn't matter, none of it matters." Hand at the neckline of Xander's shirt, sharp tug and the material disintegrates. Both hands on the bare torso, spanning the rib cage and he feels the heartbeat racing under his fingertips. Rubbing the soft flesh, fingertips brushing nipples that harden at once and Xander just closes his eyes, head rolling on the carpet.

Angel sits back, unbuttons his shirt with shaking hands, pulls it off. Bare skin to bare skin now when he lays back down on him and he can't keep his hands from wandering everywhere. Cupping the back of Xander's head in one hand, the other brushing down his side, clutch at his hip through the khakis. The whole time he's kissing him with a wet open mouth, over and over until Xander responds. His arms come up, clutch Angel's shoulders and he just...breaks.

"So warm," Angel groans against his mouth and Xander's hips buck in response. The fight has gone out of him, the tension in his body is all strung out sexual need now, and Angel is too far-gone to deny himself the satisfaction. Revels in the submission so easily regained, Xander's attempts to retain his own control making the loss of it that much sweeter. Something to get lost in, to pull around them like a rough woolen blanket that covers and constrains.

Leans back again, gets to his knees straddling him and pops the button on his pants, tugs at the zipper, the waistband, and there's a perfect white 'v' in the open khaki, Xander's hard cock visible through the thin fabric of his boxers. Angel breathes in once, and hears Xander echo it, gasping cry. Slips his fingers into the triangle of white, traces the length there with a light light touch. Tilts his head and observes Xander lying perfectly still, quivering all over, eyes shut tight and hands at his side.

// I'll tell you when you can move, boy // Echo in his head, Angelus taunting him with memories of absolute surrender. Angel himself painfully erect at the sight of the boy's tightly controlled balance between want and need.

Hooks his fingers into the waistband of pants and boxers and tugs them down over hips, moving back as they uncover Xander's thighs, knees and finally his shoes come off along with the pants. No socks and Angel stares at the boy. Naked. Trembling, cock twitching, and flushed from hairline to chest. Leans forward and runs a finger up the line of his leg, across his knee and over to the pale skin of his inner thigh. Xander's legs part obligingly and Angel catches himself wanting to fall on the boy and just bathe in his heat. Drive himself into the tight sheath and let the blood soak them both.

Tiny silver ripples twist on the skin high along Xander's thigh, long healed scars placed there in dominance and ownership. Never mind that the boy had asked for them, they were brands nonetheless. His fingers skate over them and Xander groans. Angel sees a silvery spool of precome leak from his cock and puddle on his belly. Touches him there again, rubbing, and gets a more violent response, another gush of fluid and Xander's voice moaning out his name.

Too much to take, and Angel tears at his own pants, button proving stubborn and being lost in the urgency. Zipper down and pants over his hips and he doesn't care that he's still half dressed. It's just about the sensation of naked skin, hot and sliding under his own cool flesh, the way Xander is so full of need despite his absolute disgust for himself and for Angel. Biting his own lip to keep from calling out, and Angel remembers that was forbidden too at one point. Taken away with everything else when Xander allowed himself to be broken, used, when he let himself be owned by something bigger than he could ever imagine.

Angel nips and sucks at Xander's mouth, traces his swollen lips with his tongue before slipping it inside and tasting him, coffee and chocolate and bittersweetness. His own hard length presses heavily into Xander's belly, slipping in the wetness between them. He gets to his knees, still leaning on one elbow and fists the swollen cock. The boy arches up off the floor at the sudden grip, writhes into the slow pumping movements, eyes still closed and face turned away. Angel nuzzles into the hollow of his shoulder and neck, licks the skin there, flicks his tongue in the crease behind Xander's ear. Encouraged by the whimpering response, he sucks the earlobe into his mouth, bites down gently before releasing it to trace the shell of the ear with the tip of his tongue. His hand keeps up the rhythm and his hips match the pace as he rubs himself against the skin and bone of Xander's hip.

"Need...need to come," Xander gasps out and Angel very nearly joins him. Increases his stroke and the tightness of his grip, waits for him. Waits. And when he sees the look of pained concentration on Xander's face he realizes the depth of memory he's eliciting tonight, feels a surge of near giddiness race through him like fire for the way he's using him again, how deeply the scars have twined into Xander's being.

"Look at me," Angel whispers, and Xander's eyes snap open, find his face. He watches the skin take on a deeper flush at the exposure and says one word, allows him the release.

"Come," and feels the rush of heat on his hand, pearly strands covering belly and chest as Xander hits his climax with a gasp and a low moan. Takes the hand slick with the fluid and begins to stroke himself, coating his cock and wanting, needing to be inside all of the warmth that he came looking for tonight.

Sticky hand on Xander's hip and he flips him over, pulls him up to his knees and presses forward. Slick finger between the boy's legs, seeking and finding the tight entrance and slipping inside, Angel's groan covering the boy's yelp. Another finger in and this time there's a sob from Xander and he hears it clearly. Won't stop what he's doing, too far past the point where it could be halted, and not caring at all. Fingers twisting inside, and he's stretching him as slowly as he can.

Hands and knees spread, trembling all over and head bowed, Xander is the picture of submission. Still aroused, the scent of it sharp and heavy in the air, but there's nothing else there with it. Fear prickles around the edges of the smell, and Angel freezes. Strokes his other hand down the ridges of Xander's spine, feels him shudder, muscles tightening in the involuntary reaction. Pets him as he crooks one knuckle right *there* and feels the boy shiver, whimper, stop himself from crying out. Does it again, and again, hears him gasp, feels him startle at the pressure and the pleasure he cannot make his body stop feeling.

Angel lets his other hands slide around Xander's waist, between his legs, cups the sac there for a minute, soft weight on his palm. Further exploration reveals Xander's arousal again, and that's familiar, too. Slides the probing fingers out and brings both hands down to the rounded ass, spreads him gently, presses his cock slippery with Xander's come against the tight ring of muscle there.

Pushes in, slow measured burning as he enters, all that heat so tight around him. Angel groans, torment and need together in one low vibration, pulls Xander up against him, his back to Angel's chest. One arm across his belly, the other gripping Xander's hip and Angel presses inside of him. The boy's head turns, bares his neck, and Angel seizes it with blunt human teeth. Wants to let the demon free, wonders if he can manage to bring it back again after all this, after having no reason to control it anymore. Holds him still that way as he begins to fuck him, slow thrusts that take him quivering to the edge. Universe narrowed to this room, this body, heat surrounding him and the feeling of control, domination and abandon, of false humanity he finds in the act itself. Wetness on his forearm, and Angel realizes he feels tears there, silent and scalding, falling onto his skin from Xander's face he drops his chin to his chest. Dark wave of something unnamable takes him and Angel wraps his hand around Xander's cock again, cruelly content to find him hard and throbbing as he pushes inside of him faster, rougher than before. Hitching breath and Angel releases his neck, growls at him to come, and he does, jerking his hips and fucking himself into the cool and grasping hand as Angel himself climaxes inside. There's a moment when they're frozen, pressed together and lost to the blackness of orgasm, but it fades too fast. Xander is tense against him and the anger is back now. He drops his forehead to the shoulder before him glistening with sweat and feels the muscles there quiver with the repressed desire to pull away.

Clarity now, unwanted at this particular moment, and he sees what he's done. Who he's become. Thinks of how he was responsible for bringing darkness with him everywhere, everything he touches falling prey to it sooner or later. Buffy too painful to contemplate still, Cordelia and Wesley back in LA, their love for him destroyed by his obsession, damage irreparable as far as he believes. And now Xander. Again. Another strike to add to his record, and how many helpless souls will he need to save for this transgression to be erased, if any of it mattered anymore?

Angel sees how the darkness he brought to Xander's life has roots that go deep. The boy had fought the clinging vines of the addiction, beat them down, and moved on with his life. Until now. Tonight Angel has turned over the soil and brought out the nightblooms, allowed them to have free reign over all the scarred planes of Xander's life.

Realization sets in, and Angel feels himself start to shake. He disengages as gently as he can, soft member slipping out and making them both shudder at the sensation. Drops his hands from the warmth of Xander's body and sits back on his heels.

"Are you done?" Bitter voice full of pain and Angel winces. "Can I get up now?"

"Xander, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened to me tonight." Eyes closed, hand rubbing his face, and he feels so tired, and empty. Picture perfect hindsight, and he sees in this moment where he has gone wrong, traces it back to the source, to Sire and Grandchilde and his first obsession, never quite cured.

Harsh bark of laughter that ends on a sob quickly choked back. "You felt the need for some reminiscing and I just happened to be at the right place at the right time? Should I be flattered that you drove all the way back here to work out your issues?" Xander kneels there still, and Angel puts out a hand, touches him on the shoulder. Draws back when he flinches away.

Standing up, Angel pulls his pants up over sticky skin, bends down to retrieve his shirt and slips it on. Stares down at Xander still kneeling with his head bent. Angel can smell the salt in his tears even though he cannot see them splashing on the pale skin. Walks to the door, and pauses with his hand on the knob.

"You can get up now, Xander."

He's gone before the boy gets to his feet.

=end=


End file.
